Life in Moderation
by Spirit0
Summary: He is obsessed with “the here, the now, the instant,” while she lives only in the thrill of the anticipation of the moment. So what's Van to do, when Hitomi enthralls him and yet does not abide by his rules of immediate gratification?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **_I am not dead, I've simply been completely uninspired/lazy/busy. But this Valentine's Day (at 3:56 PM), as I sat staring out at the snow and ice and reveled in my sadness of being unable to write anything worth the effort (plus the fact that I haven't done anything all day, on a snow day, and it's a holiday!), this idea came to me! Well, not really . . . I've had it for a long time, stored in the recesses of my mind; I just figured it would never go anywhere. But then I wondered, "hey, why not write it as a short story, just for the fun of it? Or even better, a fanfic, so that perhaps someone will actually read it?" And so I begin it now! Even though I should probably be practicing my violin/playing in the snow/doing whatever homework my mind conjures/actually reading a book/practicing for the SAT. Yet somehow those things just aren't all that much fun._

**Life in Moderation**

In the darkness of his bedroom, the light from his laptop glared like a beacon, casting deathly shadows over his smirking face. Only the sound of his fingers hitting the keyboard could be heard, as the rest of the house slept, at half past midnight. Yet he hated the constant clicking of typing, and thus plugged his ears with the headphones of his iPod, dully noting the sounds of _Fall Out Boy_'s latest music.

_Fall Out Boy_ no longer amused him, however; although their album had come out but two weeks ago, he'd already listened to all their new songs upwards of fifty times each, and the radio, as it did with most of his favorite songs, was plainly killing "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race." Sure, he still liked their "old" songs (because who couldn't love "Sugar, We're Goin' Down"?), but those were so two years ago. Thus he frequented all the BitTorrent sites he knew, searching for and instantly finding and downloading a slew of new songs from several mediocre artists that, to a point, all sounded the same.

Blue tabs blinked at the bottom of the computer screen, as several of his friends, all nocturnal, continued to send him messages about everything and nothing at all. The neon pink and light blue fonts of his female friends coupled with the dark combinations of colors used by his male friends at times made his eyes hurt; but he decided that he would rather go blind than turn on a light. Besides, if his vision ever really became that poor, well, that's what contacts and laser eye surgery were for.

DreaminOfU2: wut do u thnk of tht new grl?

He squinted at the screen, not because he couldn't read the gaudy writing, but because he was annoyed that Yukari, one of his best friends since childhood, would even mention "tht new grl."

KingVanPwnzU: i dunno, i didnt tlk 2 her

And that was exactly the problem, in his mind: that he hadn't talked to her, except for a hello and an exchange of names, and after that, she had seemed completely uninterested in him. Normally he made friends or staunch enemies, or at least casual acquaintances, out of just about every person he met at once, for at least all three, whether good or bad, expressed an interest in him. Yet this girl, this new, naïve girl, shrugged him off as though he were a small speck of dirt and nothing more. He found it extremely alarming that a _girl_ would find _him _so uninteresting.

DreaminOfU2: i thnk sum1s mad

DreaminOfU2: cuz she didnt tlk 2 u

Sometimes he really hated Yukari.

Deciding that, since tomorrow _was_ a school day, it was time to go; he "said" his farewells to all his other friends, before typing into Yukari's text-box a quick "g2g" and signing off.

OoO

Friday, perhaps, was his favorite day of the week; no, not the _day_ of Fri, he reminded himself, but the _night_, knowing that there would be no school the next day, and therefore he and his friends could stay up and out until the early hours of the morning. Yes, he loved Fri_night_, usually movie night, and so he smiled as he walked into homeroom that Friday, his schoolbag slung over one shoulder, trying to capture the essence of "cool."

As usual, his two best friends in homeroom, Merle and Dilandau, were already there. He found it somewhat odd and somewhat charming that such polar opposites as them had developed a romantic interest in each other. Just looking at the pair sitting on top of a desk, each with one earphone, listening to Dilandau's iPod, seemed out of place while remaining picturesque; Merle, a total tomboy, had tan skin, flamboyantly pink hair, and generally wore dark, baggy pants with tight-fitting shirts, while Dilandau, an albino, had pale skin, hair of silver, red eyes purer than the color of blood, and tended to wear ill-fitting jeans with punky shirts, to show off his lanky body.

Without any salutation, he dropped his schoolbag at his seat and stole Merle's earphone, eliciting a surprised "Hey!" from her.

_I want to fuck you like an animal_

"_Nine Inch Nails_ is so a decade ago," he said, placing the earphone unsparingly back into Merle's ear.

"And yet it's still a good song," Merle growled.

"I hope you and _Dilly_ don't fuck each other too hard," Van jabbed, using Merle's pet-name for Dilandau, which she used sparsely, fearing it would make her seem too much like a "girlie" girl.

"I swear I hate you, Van Fanel," Merle retorted, turning her face away to hide the blush that reddened her cheeks.

"What's up, Vanny boy?" Dilandau greeted, impassive to Van's ridicule and Merle's anger.

"Same old, same old," Van replied, sitting on his desk while trying to ignore the fact that the new girl had just walked in.

"Mr. Fanel, Mr. Albatou, what have I told you about sitting on the desks? And put that electronic device away before I confiscate it!" cried Mr. Bonanno. "You'd think as juniors you would know this by now."

"Sorry, Mr. Banana," Dilandau apologized. Merle and Van, too, complied with orders, although hiding their faces, afraid of getting detentions for merely laughing at Dilandau's disrespectful joke.

"Funny, Mr. Albatou," Mr. Bonanno said scornfully. "I've most certainly never heard that one before."

Dilandau simply rolled his eyes. "How come he yelled at you and me but not Merle?"

"Because he's probably a pedophile who likes to feel up teenage girls," Merle snorted.

But Van never answered Dilandau's question, for he was too busy watching the new girl who had seemingly paid no attention, as the rest of the class had, to the banter he and his friends had shared or the belittlement they had received from the teacher. Instead, she appeared thoroughly engrossed in a book, which Van noticed was _Ethan Frome_, the book they had been assigned to read for English, the book Van found wholeheartedly boring; it was simply full of sexual tension and nothing else to him (not that he liked reading much to begin with, since it took so much time and brain power for him). And yet this girl perused it as if it were actually interesting, her eyes (which Van had noted yesterday were a unique sea-green) scanning the page vivaciously, her shoulder length, chestnut brown hair practically spilling into the pages. Without any pretext at all, Van simply strode over and plopped himself in the empty desk in front of her, intruding upon the fictional world the girl had been sucked into.

"Hey," he said casually.

She looked up at him, a skeptical and confused look on her face. "Hello."

Van waited, erect in his chair, for something more, some substance, something to talk about, some quick conversation, and yet nothing came. Awkwardly, he drummed his fingers against the back of the chair, searching for anything to say, and only coming up with, "Hitomi Kanzaki, right?"

"Right," she said, a small smile crossing her pale pink lips, obviously entertained by his lack of eloquence. Another pause passed before she went on, trying to save him from drowning in his own lack of conversation. "I forget your name."

"Van Fanel," he growled, peeved that she had dismissed him more easily than he had previously believed.

"Right," she said, that smile still on her face and with her book still open. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Van mumbled, struggling with the fact that Hitomi was not interested in him; but he wouldn't quit that easily. "So, how do you like Fanelia High?" he asked, as cheerfully as he could.

"It's okay," she replied, using his exact words in almost the same exact tone, mocking him, just when he felt a presence, a presence he so hated, fall over him.

"I believe you're in my seat, Fanel," said a tall, pale boy, with sky blue eyes and disgustingly long blond hair.

"I'm not sorry, Schezar," Van growled, hastily retreating to his own seat, hands stuffed in his pockets, as the bell marking the beginning of first period rang. Seething, Van looked over at Hitomi and pretty-boy Allen Schezar as the two engaged in light intercourse, Hitomi finally putting away her book. How Van despised Allen Schezar! And how Van hated himself for despising Allen so, for this meant that Van cared, that he paid attention to Allen's affairs. Yet he had to, for the Fanelia high school juniors were such divided between "Allenites" and "Vanites," and some in between, who fell in the chasm labeled "social oblivion." Van knew he had a slight advantage over Allen overall, and yet his blood boiled, to think that this Hitomi Kanzaki preferred Allen.

And so for the rest of the period he watched them; Hitomi never turned his way once.

OoO

"Dude, put the fucking yo-yo away!" Dilandau cried, catching the yo-yo in midair and yanking it, dragging its user with it and evoking a cry of pain.

"I do not appreciate your language or your uncalled for violence!" Dryden Fassa exclaimed indignantly, rapidly winding up the yo-yo, lest Dilandau yank it again. Van watched with moderate interest, leaning on the lunch table, scrutinizing the cafeteria from his perch. Dryden, the "geek" of Van's immediate groupie (with the glasses and nerdy math and Star Wars clothes to match), and Dilandau, the brash one, were almost always at odds with one another; grinning to himself, Van supposed that the proverb "opposites attract" only definitively applied to romantic relationships.

"Yo-yos are so a century ago," Van murmured, loud enough for Dryden and Dilandau to hear.

"Yeah, what he said," Dilandau quipped, snatching the yo-yo out of Dryden's hands.

"Oh, stop it," mourned Millerna Aston, Dryden's girlfriend and the "girlie girl" that Merle wasn't, with golden, slightly curly locks and an up-to-date, sexy and stylish fashion sense. Millerna gave Dryden a butterfly kiss as they engaged in a happy hug, to which Van merely shifted his sidelong glance the other way, his eyes resting on the solitary figure of Hitomi (for Allen did not have the same lunch period, Van dryly noted).

It wasn't often that Van didn't have a girlfriend; no, on the contrary, it used to be that he would always have a girlfriend, for lengths of time a different one every week. His most steady relationship had lasted a good three months, much to the surprise of his peers; yet he, as always, lost interest in the girl, and pursued another, someone new, someone more fascinating than the last; but he never found that someone for very long. So even now, he thought ironically, after he had decided to go on a "relationship hiatus," he was still chasing girls, or at least one girl in particular, intent on getting her to notice his existence.

"What movie are we going to see?" Merle asked Yukari and Millerna, her voice cutting into Van's thoughts.

"_Music and Lyrics_!" Yukari and Millerna exclaimed simultaneously, giggling like the lovesick schoolgirls that they were. Van and Dilandau groaned.

"Sure," Merle agreed with a shrug, for she always had to pretend that she was apathetic to the chick flicks Yukari and Millerna picked, yet deep down inside, Van knew the feminine side of Merle loved such movies.

"I hate it when the girls get to decide," Dilandau mumbled.

"It's only fair," Van said with a laugh; then, coyly, "What do you say to inviting the new girl?"

Yukari gave him a malicious smile, surely reveling in the fact that (much) earlier in the morning she had touched the "new girl" sore spot. "Sure," was all she said.

Rubbing the back of his neck as he walked, trying to look "cool and casual," Van sat across from Hitomi, a placid smile on his face. "Hey."

She looked up from whatever artery-clogging, heart-stopping slop the cafeteria was serving that day. "Hello again," she said, amiably enough to satisfy and quell Van's nerves.

Again, silence.

"So . . ." Van began feebly, "what are you doing tonight?" It sounded like a horrible pick up line in his mind.

"Unpacking."

"Right . . ." was all Van could reply, drawing circles on the dirty lunch table with his index finger.

"Why?" she asked after a moment.

"Just wondering . . . if you wanted to go to the movies with my friends and I?" he asked hopefully. _This sounds so fucking cliché,_ he thought bitterly.

Hitomi stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time, pondering why he would make such an offer. Her eyes made Van uncomfortable, and he withered under their gaze. "It's 'me and my friends'," she corrected.

Van stared at her dumbly. "What?"

"You said 'my friends and I' when it should be 'me and my friends'."

"Right . . ." Van repeated himself, annoyed that she had the audacity to correct his grammar. And that he'd been wrong when he'd been trying to sound all smart by even saying 'my friends and I.'

"And yes."

"Yes what?" he asked, forgetting the point of the entire (lack) of conversation.

"I want to go to the movies with you," she said, letting the words linger. "And your friends."

An unexplainable chill ran down Van's spine, yet to Hitomi he merely smiled, a smile that said "checkmate," as he replied with an enthusiastic, "Great!" And, in the back of his mind, he really did find it a great, great thing.

OoO

**AN:** Argh, this was supposed to be a short story, and now it's turned into something so much bigger! Wah! But not too much . . . I don't want to go over a few chapters! And hey wow, I actually finished a chapter in one day (it only took . . . six hours, haha). And yeah yeah, I know, I know, I haven't updated my other stories in FOREVER, but I've been really, really uninspired. This was a nice break from the nothingness that has been plaguing me; so please, don't be mad at me! I can tell you this: the next chapter of LS is halfway done, and if everything goes as planned this weekend (which it never does), I will have the chapter out by Monday night. Isn't that tantalizing? (It is for me!)

And this story seems like my cynical view on the American teenager, now that I reflect upon it XX. But that's not the main point! (Although it is definitely there.) And I luff _Fall Out Boy_! Haha.

"_Our teenage vow in a parking lot,_

_'Till tonight do us part'"_

Yeah man, I dig those lyrics of theirs.

-Spirit0


	2. Chapter 2

Life in Moderation

**AN: I feel so . . . old . . . right now. Looking at my favorite stories, favorite authors. All old. Stuff not updated since 2004. It's been like . . . four years. Sometimes I wish my life would go back to then, that I still knew what all my old fanfiction pals were doing. Am I gonna drop off the face of the planet one day, too? Blah. Whatever.**

Chapter Two

The doorknob felt cold against her palm, just as the house would feel cold and bare when she stepped in, no matter how much she dreamed of a warm, inviting home. It was just . . . a new house, cluttered with brown boxes of stuff. It was different, and yet the same. And this somehow disappointed her, this sameness, this lack of excitement. But what had she expected? She convinced herself that she hadn't truly expected anything. She just liked the feeling of expectation . . . and hated that these expectations were never fulfilled.

The change of schools wasn't all that interesting either. At the basic level, minus all the little things, high school, she supposed, was high school, no matter where she moved. Teenagers were teenagers; there were the gothics, the antisocials, the geeks, the jocks, the druggies, the sluts, the pregnant girls, the hotties, the trend setters, the popular, cool people . . . there were only so many categories. She supposed she fell into the sort of geeky clique, but she wasn't ugly and she knew it, and that allowed her to gain points with the popular crowd. Perhaps that explained Van and Allen's behavior.

Even an antisocial nerd (not that she was one) could figure out that Van and Allen ruled Fanelia High's junior class, that they despised each other, that they were rivals to the very _core_. She could speculate the reasons; they were both good looking, apparently had a chivalrous air about them, and probably could skillfully play some sport. Something as silly as a girl probably drove them apart, if they'd ever been friends at all. Oh, teenagers certainly were asinine creatures.

Yes, that's right, _asinine_.

She wondered why she'd agreed to go to the movies that night. Probably because she wanted to make friends-- that's only natural, right? Sure. She wasn't immune to all human desires. Briefly, walking up to her room, she pondered what to wear, then stopped herself. She wouldn't think about that.

What would Van say?

oOo

"So you've got a date," said her brother nonchalantly, sitting on the couch in the cluttered living room watching television. "Good for you. Screw unpacking. Get a guy to do your slave labor for you."

She and he were very much _not_ alike. Unlike her, her brother was a go getter, well-liked, well-rounded, a soccer star, and pretty nice eye candy to boot. In a way, he and Van were probably alike, even though she didn't know that much about Van. It only proved her hypothesis that everything was essentially the same. "It's not a date," she said, just as nonchalantly. "He probably has a girlfriend . . ."

"Brainack, he wouldn't ask you to go to the movies with him if he had a girlfriend. And you only said that to make yourself sound stupid and piss me off," he said.

"You're not pissed off, though. And it's still not a date. Just his group of friends trying to be nice, I guess. Trying to recruit me into the 'Van Lovers' club. There are only two clubs, I guess. Machiavelli says to pick a side, even if they lose, in _The Prince_."

"Hitomi, I don't think this is anything like _The Prince_, even if I haven't actually read it before," he scowled. "But seriously now, be careful. Gotta be wary of the popular ones," he said, refocusing the conversation.

"So . . . I should be wary of you, Mamoru?"

Mamoru looked at her, as she stood beside the couch, just waiting. She stared back at him, looked him straight in the eye, for she was full not of courage or curiosity or fear, but of impassiveness. He slouched slightly on the couch so that his black _Daft Punk_ t-shirt crinkled, revealing his built stomach. He hated his sister's stare. It was unnerving. "Maybe you should. Maybe I do drugs and you don't know it. Maybe I'm a daddy."

"I'd feel so bad for your kid," she said, the slightest hint of concern in her eyes. The doorbell rang. "And if you do drugs, I'd love to hear your rationale later." She moved to open the door. Not quickly. Not slowly. Just went to open the door.

"I'm the same as everyone else. I wanna be cool." She turned back in his direction before opening the door, with a look that said _you're kidding, right?_ Then, with a slight smile, she greeted Van Fanel.

"Hey," he said as soon as she opened the door.

"Hay is for horses," she replied, stepping out of the door and shutting it behind her. It was still a bit light outside, since it was only seven, although the days were definitely getting shorter as late fall set in. In the light, she could see him watching her, his eyes a mix of confusion and annoyance at her response. She pretended to take no notice, however, just as she'd pretended not to note his (actually rather) unique maroon eyes following her at school, and began to walk towards his car. It only took a moment for him to catch up.

She was wearing the same clothes she'd worn to school, only with a light jacket and a purse, and he somehow felt slighted, as though he weren't important enough to dress up for, that she wouldn't even give him that satisfaction. He, on the other hand, had changed into a nice, maroon t-shirt (to accentuate his sexy eyes), and khaki pants. And she wasn't letting on that she'd seen him at all, as they walked side by side.

"Funny," was all he said in response to her lack of true greeting. "Your parents okay with this? You don't need to unpack?"

Opening the door for her, he was glad to see at least a bit of a smile on her face at his gentlemanly act (all in the hopes of something not-so-gentlemanly to occur later). "They're okay with it. They think it's nice, actually. Good for me. They're very trusting people."

Sliding into the driver's seat, he turned to her skeptically. "Are you implying that you don't trust me?"

"Who said that they don't trust _you?_ And would I get into a car with you if I didn't trust you?" she asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

"No. I suppose not," he consented, turning the key, listening to the engine rev. Engines revving, such a delightfully manly sound. He was totally ready to impress her with his mad skills at being able to drive 35 miles per hour in a 25 mile per hour zone. These silly thoughts were keeping him occupied as he racked his brain for something more to say.

"Who else is coming with us?" she asked.

"Dilandau and Merle," he said, grateful for such an easy question. "Dilandau's the albino one and Merle's the one with the pink hair."

"I know," she said simply. He took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her, flabbergasted that she would remember the likes of his posse but not even bother to have the faintest recollection of him earlier at lunch. This girl . . . did she have a thing for guys with light hair? Blue eyes? Or was she just lesbian or something?

"And Amano and Yukari and Dryden and Millerna," he concluded. "Know who they are, too?"

"Aside from Amano," she said. Curtly. Annoyingly curtly.

"I'm picking up Dilandau and Merle, and Dryden's driving the rest."

"Okay."

She began to wonder why she'd agreed to go to the movies. She didn't even really like movies. And it was obvious to her that Van was completely into himself, ticked off by her lack of response to him. Maybe that's why she'd come. Because she enjoyed torturing him in this way. It made him give her his undivided attention while simultaneously dividing it. She smiled as she stared out the window with that thought, somehow exhilarated.

"So, where did you move from?" Van asked.

"Astoria."

"I see . . . why'd you move to Fanelia?" Van asked.

"Because I didn't want my family to leave me behind when they decided to move to Fanelia."

. . .

"Why'd your _family_ move to Fanelia?" he asked. Correctly.

"Because my father received a very nice job offer from the software company _Escaflowne_."

"Yeah? That's cool," he said. Look, he was making an effort to be nice to her. Why couldn't she do the same for him? This was a lot of effort just to win one over on Schezar.

"Yes, I suppose it is . . ." she replied, noting that he was slowing the car down in front of an old stone house that had some character to it, unlike all those ugly developments that were all the rage today, but it still looked like many of the other houses in the neighborhood. He honked, and a few moments later Dilandau and Merle walked down the pathway, holding hands like any good couple should. They practically collapsed into the backseat of the car.

"Yo!" Dilandau exclaimed, poking his head between the seats. It was the first time Hitomi got a good look at him. His face was sinister, yet playful, very pale, with silvery hair and red eyes, redder than Van's. She wasn't quite sure what Merle saw in him, but then, she did have crazy pink hair. Light hair . . . she preferred Van's dark hair. Because Van, he acted very playful, sure, but there was definitely something dark and mysterious about him.

"Hey," Van said, starting to drive again.

"Hi," Hitomi said, with a smile. Dilandau smiled back, an impish grin.

"Hey, hey, Vanny boy, why no music?" Dilandau asked, turning the dial before Van could say anything. _Four Minutes_ by Madonna featuring Justin Timberlake blasted through the speakers.

_Come on boy, I've been waiting for somebody to pick up my stroll_

"Yeah!" Dilandau said, bobbing his head up and down to the beat with Merle, singing along to Justin Timberlake's part.

_Well, don't waste time, give me a sign, tell me how you wanna roll_

_I want somebody to speed it up for me, then take it down slow_

_There's enough room for both . . ._

_Well, I can handle that, you just gotta show me where it's at_

_Are you ready to go? (Are you ready to go?)_

"Do you like this song?" Van asked Hitomi, turning to face her at a stop light. His chocolaty eyes, the way his eyebrows were lifted, they insinuated that he cared about her response, since he thought the song was so . . . four months ago. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. She actually did like this song, had loved it the first time around. Sometimes she still had a hankering to listen to it; but when she actually did, it had lost some of its charm. Figures.

_If you want it, ya already got it_

_If you thought it, it better be what you want_

_If you feel it, it must be real, just_

_Say the word and I'ma give you what you want_

_"_Yes, I like this song. I have a fetish for dance songs, even though I don't dance much."

Dilandau and Merle started talking to her then while Van processed her answer. So she was one of those people who was always caught . . . watching, feeling the vibe, the heat, the fun oozing off everyone else, living off that euphoria, imagining doing wild and crazy things, but never actually participating in any it. That sounded like . . . the complete opposite of him. Oh God, what was he doing with this smart (ass), recluse of a girl, in his car, on the way to see a chick flick, wishing this were more of a date than some twisted scheme to make her like him more than she liked Allen?

He was either desperate or bored out of his mind.

_Time is waiting_

_We only got four minutes to save the world_

_No hesitating_

_Grab a boy_

_Grab a girl_

_Time is waiting_

_We only got four minutes to save the world_

_No hesitating_

_We only got four minutes, four minutes_

oOo 

Not that she didn't have a charm about her, or maybe it was just the glow of the movie screen silhouetting her face, because her face was way more interesting than this movie. Every time he glanced at her face, he went for the popcorn sitting in her lap so she wouldn't notice, although everyone else had lost interest in the popcorn a quarter of the way through the movie. Popcorn was so thirty minutes ago, when it was warm and full of buttery appeal, not cold and making him feel full of buttery death. But he enjoyed watching her charming face, because . . . because . . . she wasn't like Yukari or Merle or Millerna or all the other girly girls he'd ever taken to the movies, who would swoon over hot guys and sigh at sweet lines or cry at heartbreaking moments. She wouldn't even laugh at the (supposed to be) really funny moments (although she would laugh at the not (supposed to be) so funny ones). No, she just sat there, staring at the screen duly, intaking all of it through her shining green eyes, keeping her comments locked behind her slightly-frowning mouth. A very very succulent mouth.

_Look away from the smart ass recluse, I repeat, look away from the smart ass recluse._

Like she couldn't tell he wasn't looking at the oh-so-sexy popcorn, although watching him go for the popcorn out the corner of her eye was holding her attention way more than this movie. She almost felt grateful for somehow being suckered into holding the popcorn. Maybe this movie wouldn't have been so bad if she'd liked comedy, and if she couldn't predict just about every single plot "twist." And maybe if wouldn't be so bad if she thought any of the guys were that good looking. But she had Van to watch out of the corner of her eye-- a real, attractive, jackass of a guy who seemed to be giving her the millionth-over, like he might see something different in her after the next mouthful of popcorn that would make it worthwhile for him to hit on her.

What if he did the yawn, put his arm around the shoulder thing? What if he tried to hold her hand? No. Those were overly-cheesy things, overly-hyped things that were always, always a let down. No, no, she would prefer something much more simple, much more never-even-happened, like if he put his arm on the armrest, lightly grazing hers, so that she could feel his warmth, would want his touch-- but would never get it. And then, somewhat to her surprise, he did exactly that, probably finally deciding to go for the hand hold. But she took her arm off the rest.

They were both at least a bit disappointed.

oOo

And then somehow it was dark, and they were alone again, driving along in his car, slowly, slowly, yet quickly, quickly approaching her house, approaching the end of the night, approaching some sort of (anti-) climatic ending. Somehow their chit-chat rolled on-- about how the movie was just okay, about his friends, about Fanelia, about songs that came on the radio. And then, somehow, he was pulling up in front of her house, parking, getting out, and rounding the front of his car to open her door for her.

"You're so chivalrous," she commented.

"Yes, I can be rather chivalrous . . . when I want to be," he said, and she didn't fail to note his comment laced with double-meaning, with subtle sweetness and lust. Subtle, such a funny word. Don't you agree? What the hell is with the silent 'b'? There shouldn't be silent b's.

"Well, I had fun tonight," she said when the were halfway across the path. What an over-used, borderline-lie of a line. She was sure it was beneficial for him to hear, though.

"I'm glad," he replied, stopping a few steps in front of her door. What to do, what to say next? She was standing ahead of him, just looking at him, giving him a faint smile, an evil-looking smile as the front light cast her in shadows. He wouldn't, he couldn't do anything. And yet he wanted to. That wasn't what he'd expected.

"See you later, Van," she said cheekily, turning to leave.

"Wait--," he said, before he could think of what he wanted her to wait for. "Uh . . . there's this party tomorrow night . . . just wondering if you'd want to come?"

Her smile widened. "No thanks. I really should get unpacked."

"I figured. I was just wondering."

"Goodbye, Van," she said, turning to open the door.

"Wait--," he said again, feeling even more foolish than the first time. He felt foolish squared.

"What?" she asked with a slight laugh.

"You didn't give me your number," he said, pulling out his iPhone.

"Well, you didn't give me your number, either," she countered.

"Well then, you give me yours, I'll give you mine," he said slyly.

She laughed again. "Maybe I don't want to give you my number. Yet," she said, entering her new house with a backward glance and a victorious grin, leaving him standing there with his hands at his sides, somewhat stunned and angrily amazed.

Maybe that wasn't so anti-climatic after all.

**AN:** **There could definitely be more . . . substance to it, I feel. But it didn't turn out as bad as I thought it was. I realized at the end like "oh crap, I forgot to have them exchange numbers . . . I'll do it now . . . this actually works out much better . . . not like . . . so boring." But eh, I still don't want this story to be that long-- maybe like ten chapters? So I'm gonna have to get more into the nitty-gritty next chapter. So, until then, review!**

**-Spirit0**


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